Remember Me, Cecil
by Hannah HasSpareTime
Summary: Incredibly angst-filled Cecilos One-Shot in which Cecil decides he will NOT be reeducated.


Cecil sat cross-legged on a stool in Carlos's lab, "fascinated" by all of the "science" (by which it is meant that he was watching his sexy boyfriend work intently). The perfect scientist was working vigorously, occasionally asking his partner to hand him scientific instruments and such, while singing something under his breath.

"Why are you talking about last week's weather?" Cecil asked.

Carlos sighed. He knew he would have to explain eventually. "Cecil, where I come from, we call it music. It doesn't have anything to do with the weather."

"What?"

"We listen to it for fun."

The radio host cocked his head to the side. "Do you still have to stand still and completely absorb it?"

"No," laughed Carlos. "You dance."

Cecil just looked even more confused. "What is this 'dance'? You mean like we do at tribal ceremonies and bloodstone circles?"

"Sort of... Except it's more... spontaneous."

"Can you show me?"

"Of course, Cecil." Carlos stood up. He turned on his favorite song ("The Scientist" by Coldplay) and extended a hand towards Cecil. "Take my hand."

Tentatively Cecil got off his stool and accepted Carlos's hand. "Good," Carlos coaxed. "Now I'll put my hand on your waist. You put your hand on my shoulder. No, your other hand."

His boyfriend adjusted properly. "Like that?" he asked nervously.

"Yes. Now we just kind of sway back and forth." Then they did.

_Tell me your secrets. Ask me your questions. Oh let's go back to the start._

_Running in circles, coming in tails, heads on a science apart._

_Nobody said it was easy._

As they slowly spun into the chorus, Cecil leaned his head into his scientist's shoulder. "Carlos?"

"Yes Cecil?"

"I like music. And dancing."

"Me too."

And they danced like that for a while. The radio show host's head buried in the scientist's lab coat as the music played softly in the background. Carlos started singing along in the second verse.

"I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling your numbers apart. Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart." His singing voice was melodic and soothing, much like Cecil's radio voice. It made Cecil smile sweetly. "Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me. Oh and I rush to the start. Running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are."

Now Cecil joined in, their voices matching together perfectly. "Nobody said it was easy-"

The doors burst open and in came the Sheriff's Secret Police. "Cecil Gershwin Palmer, Carlos the Scientist, you are under arrest for possession of and dancing to music not approved by the City Council. You will both be taken in for reeducation."

Carlos looked over only to see a horrified and petrified Cecil, tears slowly leaking from all three eyes. "No," said the Voice of Night Vale. "You. will. not. take. my. memories. again!" He lunged at the four policemen, tackling one to the ground. He turned around. "Carlos, run!"

"Not without you!" said Carlos, attacking another policeman. It was a horrendous struggle. Punches and kicks went everywhere. There was bruising and blood from noses and small cuts. Seemingly out of thin air, one policeman pulled a knife and held it to Cecil's throat.

"Don't come any closer!" he warned Carlos.

Carlos let go of one of the officers and backed up, and allowed himself to be restrained by two of the others. The remaining officer announced, "Mr. The Scientist, after violating many of Night Vale's minor laws, and now committing a major crime, we regret, well, not really regret, to inform you that you will be exiled from Night Vale."

"No!" said Cecil. Tears came pouring out of his eyes even faster.

"Do you promise not to hurt Cecil?"

"He will be re-educated, but as the next Voice has not been born, he will remain alive."

"Then it's settled."

"You have 24 hours to pack up and leave town." The guards released Carlos but clamped a tracker on his wrist. Cecil, struggling and with the knife still at his throat, was being dragged from the lab.

"Wait! Don't I get to say good-bye?"

"Yes you do. Good-bye!" And they slammed the door.

* * *

><p><em>I must not forget Carlos during my reeducation.<em>

_I must not forget Carlos during my reeducation._

_I must not forget Carlos during my reeducation._

He chanted it in his head, an internal mantra of remembrance, as he was led down the hall to the Room of Reeducation. It was a dimly-lit padded cell with a single chair in the center. There were guards too, and they all carried torture devices and memory erasers.

They seated him in the chair and handcuffed him to it. Then began the reeducation. He tried to hold on to his thoughts. _Carlos Janice Carlos Bowling Carlos Weather Carlos Dana Carlos..._

The pain was unbearable, all electric shocks and deep scratches, and he couldn't help but scream. His blood felt like it was boiling and his organs felt fried to a crisp. He screamed and cried until his voice was hoarse and broken and no sound would come out. Hope was lost. _What is hope again? Janice. Janice has hope. I love Janice. I love Carlos. Carlos. I cannot forget Carlos._

"Carlos." he hoarsely whispered. It was so faint that not one officer could hear it.

But at that moment, Carlos came bursting through the door, guns (but not really guns, as they can't kill people) blazing. He shot chemicals and stabbed with syringes. Science was his weapon, and he knew how to wield it.

He reached Cecil and began un-cuffing him from the manacles that had cut into his wrists like that of so many others. "It's okay," he assured. "It'll be okay."

"Carlos!"

"Yes it's me, Cecil. It's Car-" But that little exclamation had been a warning. A Sheriff's Secret Police Officer snuck up behind Carlos and stabbed him between the shoulder blades. The scientist stopped and dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

By now, Cecil was so dehydrated that he couldn't cry, so he just threw himself over his partner, choking out sobs. "Carlos. Carlos. Carlos."

"I love you, Cecil." Carlos's beautiful brown eyes were alight and teary, then dead and gone, glazed over. His wonderful hair lay spread about him and his labcoat torn and stained. The blood from his stab wound was soaking through Cecil's work pants.

Cecil slowly shut the scientist's eyes and planted a kiss between them. "I love you too, Carlos."

They sat there for a while, Cecil cradling him in his arms as the color slowly drained from his partner's face, as the body turned cold. He just ran his fingers through the once perfect, now blood-matted hair. After a while, the officers picked Cecil up off of Carlos and sat him in the chair again. They were beginning reeducation again, approaching with the weapons and erasers again.

This time, Cecil wanted to forget.

"Curse you," he said. "Curse you and this town." The Voice of Night Vale hung his head and his body allowed one last tear.

He let go.


End file.
